


An Idiot's Array

by Oparu



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Healing Sex, Missing Scene, after Jabba's palace, getting rid of the bikini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 17:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6620092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his rescue from Jabba's Palace, Han still can't see more than a blur. Guess blind luck really is a thing after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Idiot's Array

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to deal with Han's vulnerability and get rid of the bikini, this came out of that. Many thanks to erinnitany for her very kind assistance and shinewithalltheuntold, for being my idea co-pilot.
> 
> An Idiot's Array is the unbeatable sabacc hand, and I liked it, because Han feels like he's gotten that lucky.

Leia meets him at the bottom of the boarding ramp up to the _Falcon_ and there he can let go of her hands, because he knows his ship. He can walk through this corridor without trouble. Lando and Chewie can fly them out of here, even through this sandstorm. Lando’s a decent pilot, pretty good, even, and Chewie’s with him. Han’s eyesight’s still terrible. The _Falcon’s_ corridors are a mix of grey blurs, and he’s vaguely aware of Leia in front of him, a beige, sandy kind of blur in the cloak they stole from the wreckage. 

She leads him into his quarters, sits him down on the bed, then takes off his goggles and the scrap of cloth he had over his head. Leia stares at his eyes with concern, at least, that’s the expression he imagines, because he’s not really sure where her face is. He reaches out in her general direction and her fingers take his. 

“Are you all right?”

Her hand’s soft, warm, and squeezes his, but her voice is distant. “Your eyesight should return tomorrow, maybe the day after. There’s not much information about hibernation sickness from carbon freezing.” 

“I don’t need to see,” he replies too quickly. It’s a stupid answer. “I know the _Falcon_.” He grins too, and again, he can picture her face. 

Leia strokes his cheek, and there’s a hint of a smile in her voice. “Maybe Lando rearranged some things. We wouldn’t want you to trip.”

He follows her arm to her shoulder, then reaches for her face, because if he can’t see her, he wants to feel her expression. Leia leans into his palm and his thumb brushes her lips. It’s only a half smile. 

“I missed you,” he says, trying to get more of a smile from her. 

Smiling a little more, Leia shakes her head. “I wasn’t even gone from your point of view. I was there when you froze, and there when you woke up.”

“How long?”

“One hundred eighty-four days,” she says, then presses her lips to his hand. “It took us some time to come up with a plan, and another plan, and we needed Luke--” 

“Hey.” He still can’t see her, but he knows the crack in her voice, the tension in the way she speaks. “It was a good rescue. We blew up the sail barge, Jabba’s dead, I’m not a piece of wall art. It’s far better than the last rescue, or when Luke tried to rescue us from Cloud City.” 

Leia leans into his hand again. The wet heat of a tear crosses his thumb. “I missed you.” 

He reaches for her, tugging her into a clumsy embrace. “Good.”

She nudges his shoulder, feigning anger, then kisses his cheek. “I’d become very used to having you around. I was almost lost without you. You could even say that I needed you.” 

He leans back on the bed, so grateful for that familiar cushion. Fabric rustles, and Leia sets her goggles and the thick shawl, cape, whatever it is she’s wearing aside. She’s still the color of sand without it, a pale place in his blurry vision. “So you grabbed my best friends and came to save me from the slug lord?”

Chain rattles, and he knows what that’s for, he knows Jabba. Leia takes a few steps away from him, searching the storage compartments. 

“Bolt cutters in the second drawer from the bottom, lower left. Unless you and Lando moved them.” He keeps his tone light, but anger rises hot in his chest, mixed with guilt. He’s seen what Jabba puts his dancers in, and how he treats them. The idea that Jabba kept Leia as a trophy makes him sick to his stomach. He was at least lucky enough to be unconscious while Jabba appreciated him. 

Leia rummages through the drawers, then metal sighs, snaps, and part of her horrible attire drops to the deck with a clang. Two more clangs follow, and she pauses. Is she turning? Trying to reach? What’s she doing? 

“Leia?”

“We need water.” She passes the bed, stops and touches his hair. Her voice is too even, too resolute. What hasn’t she told him? “I’ll be right back.” 

He fumbles for her hand and catches her wrist. Her skin’s hot, cracked, whatever she was wearing left marks. His fingers find the scabs and he searches up her arm again. There’s worse on her neck. She winces when he touches her, but doesn’t pull away. Holding her throat, he confirms that these marks are from a collar. 

“How did Jabba die? Did he burn with the barge?”

Leia wraps her smaller hands over his, her thumb moving against the back of his hand. “Turns out he doesn’t enjoy chains when they’re around _his_ neck.” She pauses, leaning closer to him. “He won’t be able to hurt you, or anyone else.” Squeezing his fingers, she leaves him in the grey darkness.

She killed Jabba, that was in her voice. Han knows it, even if she didn’t put it to words. She didn’t have a weapon, and even blind, his mind offers him a glimpse of Jabba the Hutt, choked to death with the chain that bound so many women, Leia last of all. 

Staring is just making his eyes ache, and he can’t see anything. Han tries to focus on the _Falcon’s_ familiar thrum, and the smell of his bunk, because he knows this ship, calls it home. 

His bunk smells like Leia. He thought it was just her being near him, but no, the bunk itself smells like her. Chewie would have insisted she sleep here. How long did they have to look for him? Lando would have rigged a tracker, he must have, and Leia- Luke- both away from the Rebellion, and Luke away from his training. 

Though he says he’s finished it. He’s a Jedi Knight, or something. Leia’s feet pad back into the room and something liquid sloshes in a bucket. 

“We’re both filthy,” she says. Setting the bucket down, she moves across the floor, her bare feet almost soundless. Two more snaps of bolt cutters follow, then a sharp exhale of breath, and a heavy piece of metal hits the deck, echoing in the little bunk room. Metal rubs against metal and she stashes it all somewhere. That might be a drawer. 

“What was that?”

“Scrap,” she answers, her voice proud, but flat, heavy. “I’ll melt it down later. Now you, come here, you’re getting sand all over our bunk.” 

Holding out his hands for her, he chuckles, because ‘our bunk’ came so naturally to her. “Ours?”

“Unless you’re planning on sharing with Lando.”

“Lando did come to rescue me.” 

Leia guides him down onto a towel on the floor and starts removing his shirt, because his fingers are still clumsy, useless with old adrenaline and exhaustion. While she leans over him, his arm crushes her breast. She’s _naked_. Raising his hands as she strips him, he touches her breasts, the skin of her chest, and stops with her stomach, stroking her. 

“Chewie dragged us all, wouldn’t shut up until we came to Tatooine,” she whispers, kissing his cheek. Her mouth lingers next to his face and the warmth of her is far sweeter than seeing the sun. “I needed you.” 

Water drains into the bucket and then a wet sponge caresses his face, his neck. She straddles him, her knees on either side of his waist. The smell of sweat and dirt assaults him, taking away the lingering heavy incense, the spice of Jabba’s palace, and blaster smoke. 

“Can I help?”

“Think you know me well enough blind, hot shot?” Leia kisses his cheek then presses the warm, wet sponge into his hands. His fingers still tremble, but it’s easier touching her. He can find his way along her skin. He starts with her back, smoothing away the grime of the desert. 

“I know you,” he says, working his way up her spine. “You’re my favorite thing to touch.” 

She nuzzles his neck, leaning closer as his hands move higher. She’s warm, and it’s like she was just here, just with him on Bespin, but it’s been months. Her ribs are closer to the surface of her skin, her muscles tighter. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Leia stops kissing his neck, shifting over his lap. “For what?”

“For the last one hundred eighty-four days.” She strokes his face, tracing his bottom lip, but he can’t see her. 

Han holds her shoulders and breath shudders in her chest. 

Leia kisses his forehead, then his cheek. Her hips rub against him through his trousers and he nearly drops the sponge because that shouldn't feel as good as it does. “I had to find you, so did Luke, but we had to track you down, come up with a plan..." She sighs, but her shoulders shake. 

Her breath's too sharp, too tight in her head. Han runs a hand around her shoulder, resting it on her breast. He thumbs her nipple, and she laughs, but there's a painful edge to it. 

"You saved me." 

She came for him. Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan, heart of the Rebellion, crossed the damn galaxy to find him. She's crazier than he thought. Tilting his chin, she kisses him and it deepens, because for her it's been months and she needs this connection, needs _him_ , for some reason he has yet to completely fathom. Leia reaches down, stripping him of his trousers. 

They should wait, be clean, talk, but her hands slip around him and he drops the sponge to the deck. Han tugs her closer, guiding her over him. She shifts, letting him kick away his trousers. Leia kisses him again, sucking his lip. He runs a hand down her belly, slipping lower. Between the dust and sweat they're both still filthy, but that can wait. She kisses down his chest, stopping over his heart. Leia pauses, holding there. 

"I'm here," he whispers. Tracing her sex, he slips one finger against her, then a second, finding the hot wetness of her arousal. Leia sighs, whimpering while he runs over her clit. She teases his erection with her hand, tightening her grip as she pumps him.

"Inside, fly boy," she demands, using that princess voice she saves for special occasions. Han teases her with a finger but she clicks her tongue. "No, I want you. Now." She guides him in, taking him in haste. He doesn't thrust, forcing himself to wait while the heat of her settles over him. Han can't see her eyes, but her little moan of pleasure sends a wave of heat through him. 

"I missed you," she mutters into his ear. Leia takes a moment, settling over him, she's tight around him, as if she still hasn't come down from the fight. He rubs her clit, circling slowly while she squirms. 

He rocks towards her, and she shifts, taking a moment before she moves. He strokes her breast with one thumb, then follows his hand with his mouth, sucking until she shudders. 

"You missed me?" hHe asks, grinning. "Better make it good." 

Leia rocks forward, letting him slide deeper while he finds her other breast. He's found those enough in the dark that he doesn't need to see, but he misses her eyes when he returns to kissing her mouth. Leia sighs into his lips, relaxing, finding an angle, a rhythm. They're both exhausted, fucking on adrenaline and relief. Her breathing increases, hissing through her mouth. His nerves tingle, and she sets his skin on fire. 

That heat creeps inward, and she tightens around him. He surrenders to the feeling of her skin on his; her breasts against his chest. Han strokes her clit more urgently, thrusting up into her, meeting her. Leia's head rests against his shoulder, gasping into his neck. 

"I love you," he whispers into her hair. His fingers push her over the edge, and she squeezes around him, rolling towards orgasm. He shivers, because he can't hold himself. 

"I needed you back," she replies, breathless. Finishing makes his head spin, could be the hibernation sickness, but he'd rather blame Leia. She kisses him, this time slowly. His eyes sting, and his head reels like a freighter with a bad gyro. Holding her cheek, he finds the dampness beneath her eyes. 

"You've got me, princess." 

She holds his face for a long moment, and his mind fills in her dark eyes and the softness of her mouth that he can't see in the blur that's her face. His universe was him and Chewie for so long that having it shift like this, center itself around a princess and a kid with delusions of grandeur, was unfathomable. Han's never believed the odds, never listened when something was impossible, but Leia's beyond unlikely. Meeting her, that's striking the unbeatable hand on the first draw. 

She saved him, gave him a fight, something- someone- to believe in and maybe, when all this is over, they'll go home. Maybe build one.


End file.
